(I’m Canadian, but I’m visiting my French cousin and helping him do some repairs on his cafe. While we’re working, a large family passes by, obviously lost. I’m wearing a shirt with a large Canadian flag on the back.)

Mother: “Excuse me! I’m sorry to bother you, but are you Canadian?”

Me: “Yes, I am.”

Mother: “Thank god! We’ve been lost for hours.”

(She shows me her map. Ultimately, I work out they’re trying to cross the border into Germany, but got lost trying to find out how to get there.)

Father: “Good thing the signs are all in French, or else we wouldn’t have managed to find our way around anywhere!”

(I work in a store that carries all kinds of DVDs, from G-rated all the way up to X and everything in-between. A boy, no older than 12, brings a soft-core pornography DVD up to my register.)

Me: “I’m sorry, but I can’t sell this to you.”

Boy: “Why not?!”

Me: “It’s inappropriate for someone of your age.”

Boy: “My mom said I could have it!”

Me: “I’m sorry, but I still can’t sell it to you.”

(The boy storms out of the store.)

Co-worker: “Can you believe that? Like his mom really said he could have that!”

Me: “I know. Either he’s lying, or his mom only said he could have it because she doesn’t know what it’s about.”

(Shortly thereafter the boy returns to the store with his mom. His mom stomps around the store, gets the DVD, and slams it down in front of me.)

Mom: “I can’t believe I had to get out of the car for this! You should have just sold it to him! He told you that I said he could have it!”

Me: “I’m sorry for the inconvenience, but I can’t sell that video to anyone under the age of 18.”

Mom: “Why not? Discrimination?”

Me: “Not at all. It just contains things that most people feel is inappropriate for a child to see.”

(The mom picks up the DVD and examines it for the first time. She looks at the front and then starts reading the back. The more she reads, the wider her eyes get. All of a sudden she drops the DVD and starts spanking her son’s butt. She drags him out of the store by his arm.)

Boy: “But mom, you said I could have it!”

Mom: “I didn’t know what it was about! I’m so embarrassed! I can’t believe I almost bought you porn!”

(I am standing in a line for a checkout at a supermarket, when I look over and see a family with two kids in another line. The kids are throwing stuff everywhere, tins, bottles, and jars. The cashier, a young girl, is frantically trying to calm them down. Note: I’m pretty big, about 6’3″ and broad, plus I have a black eye, cut nose and a cut across my lip from a sports match the day before.)

Father: “How dare you! You people just get off on telling other people what to do! You’re all just fascists, that’s what!”

Cashier: “Look, I’m not trying to tell you what to do, but your kids are going to end up hurting someone, and then it’ll be a big problem for all of us.”

Mother: “Are you threatening us?”

Cashier:*looking shocked and confused* “No! Not at all. I’m just saying that it would be best if you asked your children to stop before someone gets hurt.”

Father: “You’re still making threats! Either you stop with that right now or I swear to God I will give you a big problem! I’m going to make you sorry you were born, unless you shut the f*** up right now!”

(I catch the cashier’s eye, and she looks hopeless. I bend down, pick up a tin thrown by one of the kids and quietly move to just behind the parents.)

Me: “Excuse me.”

(They spin round. The father is not that tall, about 5’10”, so he’s pretty much looking me in the neck. I point at my black eye and battered face.)

Me: “One of your kids just hit me in the face. Is this a problem I should take up with you personally, or should I just call the police?”

(I’m looming over him now, very much invading his personal space.)

Father: “Oh, God, I’m sorry! I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

Me: “I would recommend you apologise to the nice lady who’s been putting up with you for the last 10 minutes without calling the police. It seems she’s had far more to deal with than me!”

(My husband and I are sitting a few tables down from a family of six. All of the children are older, the youngest looking about 17, so I didn’t expect any problems until a priest walks in.)

Teenage daughter: “Hey [brothers’ names], look at the priest!”

Mother: “Shush, don’t embarrass yourself.”

Son #1: “S***, does this mean we can’t do s***?”

Teenage daughter: “Oooh, you swore in front of a priest! You’re going to Hell!”

Son #1: “You’re going to Hell for being a wh***.”

(The parents look mortified at their behavior. I am shocked, too, especially at a man in his early twenties calling his younger sister a wh***. After chastising them both, the parents go back to conversing with the older daughter until the other two start up again.)

Teenage daughter: “Hey, [other brother], I dare you to go ask for confession.”

(Finally, it appears the priest has had enough, and stands up, approaching the table from the girl’s side.)

Priest: “First off, young lady, I have heard your mother tell you to be quiet several times. The fourth commandment says honor thy mother and thy father. You, my dear, obviously need some work on that. Secondly, if anyone needs confession at this table, it is you. Thirdly, the makeup doesn’t quite cover the hickey on your neck.”

(At this, the second son bursts out laughing, and the father profusely thanks the priest for reigning in his now speechless daughter. They ask the priest to join them and insist on paying for his meal. Besides that, on the way out, I hear the mother tell the daughter she’s grounded until she’s 30.)